The Reaper and the Drifters
by SushiBomb
Summary: He was very different from all of the other people they had mugged before. The real question was, would it have been better to let him be and wait for the next one? Either way, something was off and Liz knew that as soon as he smiled at her, even while staring down the barrel of a gun. Kid, Liz and Patty's first encounter and the subsequent events. Two-shot, slight Kid x Liz Enjoy
1. The Boy in the Black Suit

A/N: Hello! This is my first official post for the Soul Eater fandom, even though I've been a huge fan of the series, both anime and manga for a couple of years now. Yeah I'm late to the party, as usual.

Anyway, I've been working on this for a couple of days, since I love Kid and the Thompson Sisters and I feel like they don't get enough love.

This will probably be a two-shot, _maybe_ three if I go overboard (as I am wont to do, and quite often I'm afraid).

Warnings: Liz's mouth mostly, and it will be slightly Kid x Liz later. But only slightly. Not enough for this to be considered a pairing fic, anyway. You'll see what I mean. Also, this follows both the original series and the Soul Eater Not! Storyline. If you haven't read the spin-off series yet, I'd recommend doing so…at least, the chapters that involve Kid and the Thompson Sisters anyway, as their backstory is explained a little more.

Also, it's kinda late, and I don't feel like editing at the moment. So ignore any grammatical errors for now. I'll go back and edit it tomorrow, don't worry.

With all of that being said, Happy Reading!

08/19/12 Properly beta'd by Musard. I also made some additional edits, so it flows better now.

Disclaimer: SushiBomb does not own Soul Eater. This is written solely to entertain. Okay thank you.

* * *

The Boy in the Black Suit

* * *

It was always easy to spot a rich kid.

In a neighborhood like theirs, where dark hoodies, baggy jeans, and guns holstered in between belt loops were the norm, a lone teenager in a crisp-looking black suit and no visible weapons stuck out like a sore thumb. He was a far cry from their usual victims; after all, people like him, namely, people who had _money_, didn't show up on their street often. But once in awhile, some spoiled brat would wander a little too far from home, and she and Patty would make sure that they learned never to stray outside of their luxurious little bubbles.

And Liz didn't know what she found more hilarious, the fact that this stranger was walking down their street looking like that, or that he had the nerve to look completely indifferent to the stares of other potential muggers as he did so.

To her left, Patty was giggling loudly, her hands tucked in her pockets, pushing the loose jeans so far down that the top of her thong was showing, and her foot in the process of crushing her soda can. Her eyes were also focused on the strange boy in the suit. Liz knew that Patty was thinking the exact same thing as her.

Rich people were always so oblivious to what was really going on around them. And rich kids were always the repeat offenders. It must've been nice, thinking you were untouchable. And in their neck of town, perhaps they were.

But not here.

Liz sneered as she lit what may have been her fifth or sixth cigarette that day. That boy was in for a very rude awakening. She was high, and Patty was hungry, and neither of them had any money on them at that moment. And, Liz thought as she took a long drag, unfortunately for the boy, he looked like he had plenty of money to share with her and her little sister.

"Whaddya say, Patty? You up for this?" She asked, her face blank save for the decidedly malicious gleam in her eyes. Naturally, Patty was game, if the large, cheeky grin and the slightly wild look in her eyes was anything to go by.

"Hehehehe," she giggled as she turned into her weapon form, "We're gonna eat _good_ tonight, right Sis?"

Liz didn't respond, save for the widening of her smile as she pushed herself off of the graffiti covered wall. She tucked Patty into her jean pocket and quickly walked across the street, a fair distance behind the suit-clad stranger. After a minute or so, she fell into step with him, matching his calm, measured strides easily.

She noticed his shoulders tense, but only slightly, and smirked to herself. At least the kid had half a mind to be alarmed, though in her opinion, that sense of danger should've and would've normally struck someone _before_ they set foot on the Thompson Sisters' turf. She pulled the large silver gun out of her pocket slowly as she picked up her pace, coming up right behind the boy in a matter of seconds. At the sound of a gun cocking, the boy stopped walking.

With a sinister little chuckle, Liz pressed the barrel of the gun into his lower back. She took a quick puff from her cigarette before pressing the gun a bit harder into his spine.

"You don't look like you're from around here…you lost or somethin'?"

The boy said something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like 'found you', but Liz couldn't be sure.

"What was that? Speak up, dammit!" She shouted, smashing the handle of the gun against the back of his head. The boy stumbled forward from the sudden force, rubbing his head tenderly.

"It was nothing." He said quietly. "That's quite a gun you have there."

"Tell me about it." Liz responded testily. She watched a thin trickle of blood creep down his neck and onto the crisp, white lapel of his undershirt with a small swell of pride in her chest.

_Better make this quick before he passes out._

"I think you know what comes next, doncha?"

The boy turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "I do. Shall I turn down this alley up ahead? Or do you want to take my money right here?"

Liz may not have been the smartest person in New York, not even close, she would admit, but she damn sure knew when someone was talking down to her. For someone about to be robbed, and possibly shot, this kid was pretty damn cheeky.

"Hey! Watch the attitude, asshole. Or you'll end up a splatter on that wall, you got that?"

It was at that point, normally, that the person she was mugging would either wet themselves, explode into a mess of crying and begging crap, or both. But to her surprise – and growing irritation– the boy was staring at her, his face just as neutral as before, if not moreso.

He shrugged nonchalantly, turning on the heels of his obviously very expensive dress shoes and making toward the opening of the alley. "Of course. My apologies, Miss."

Liz nearly bit her cigarette in half from rage._ Why that snotty little sunuvabitch. I'm gonna blow his cock off just for that._

She stomped after him into the alley, quickly grabbing him by the back of his blazer and shoving him against the wall. He grunted as his back hit the cold concrete, though Liz was unsure if it was more out of surprise than pain. Either way, she sidled up to him and slapped her hand on the wall next to his head, shoving the barrel of her sister's gun form against the boy's temple.

"So, you never answered my question. You lost or what?"

As part of her usual routine, she widened her eyes a bit, giving her a wild, unstable look. It was a look that she and Patty had perfected over the years, as a means of intimidation, and although Patty's always looked crazier, as Patty herself was a little crazy, it usually served its purpose well enough.

Either this boy was one brave little motherfucker or he was just flatout brain-dead, but his only reaction was to stare back at her evenly, his posture and countenance not changing once. Liz wondered vaguely if he actually understood the concept of 'mugging', and better yet, if he even realized that she would not hesistate to shoot him, if given the slightest reason.

After a moment, he spoke. "Why? Does it seem like I'm lost?"

Despite the fact that he was her captive and she was holding a gun to his head, Liz felt her pulse quicken somewhat as he spoke. His voice was smooth and velvety, just deep enough to comfortably support the overwhelming air of superiority that radiated off of him in waves. He was certainly different from any of the other rich kids she had encountered in her lifetime. By now, they were usually making empty threats and trying to use their parents' power and wealth as leverage.

"You sure as hell don't look like you're from anywhere around here. You're a long way off from Midtown Manhattan, rich boy." She said coolly. That, Liz decided mentally, was the understatement of the day.

To be blunt, he was pretty weird-looking. Not bad-weird, but interesting-weird. That was an important distinction in her and Patty's minds, as those slight variations usually meant the difference between engaging in a fight or running away, and sometimes whether they would get a chance to sleep without worrying if anyone would try to assault them, or if they were fated to stay awake the entire night and prowl the streets.

Either way, he was quite a character. He was certainly rich, that much she knew right off the bat. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that his suit was finely tailored and pressed to perfection, from the lapels of his blazer right down to his black slacks and neatly polished shoes. There was a word to describe him; it was on the tip of her brain-tongue. She had seen it once before in a fashion magazine, but for the life of her she couldn't remember what it was.

But mannerisms and personal style aside, there was something about him that Liz found a bit creepy. And not creepy as in a pervert; again, these types of distinctions were very important, but creepy as in, well…

_Man, he is pale as hell._

…He seemed to have that whole 'morbid-goth' thing going on. Not to say there was necessarily anything wrong with being pale; she and Patty had been much lighter before they made their home on the streets and consequently spent much more time outside in the sun, after all. It was just that there were different kinds of 'pale', and he was the kind of pale that made Liz think of occult, supernatural, 'gothy' things, i.e. things that scared her. She wouldn't dare to say he was pasty, but his skin was almost sickly pale, giving him a decidedly otherworldly look to him.

Plus his brooch was a skull. If that didn't scream 'morbid', Liz didn't know what did.

He looked like he walked right off the set of the Addams Family, decked out in all black and white, despite the sweltering heat. Even his hair, jet-black with three white stripes on one side, gave Liz the shivers. How he managed to even dye his hair like that, she didn't have the slightest clue, but she supposed when you had money, you had the time to experiment a little. Regardless, he didn't even seem to be bothered at all by the intense sun beating down on the city.

She was half-tempted to ask him where he kept his coffin, as well as why he hadn't burst into flames in the sunlight, because if vampires were actually real, she imagined that they would look a lot like him.

"That's because I'm not." He said suddenly, breaking Liz out of her cannabis-induced musings.

"So why are you here?" She asked hotly, quickly sliding back into 'criminal' mode.

Despite the extremely precarious situation he was in, the boy leaned against the wall as if the two were having a casual conversation, one leg crossed over the other and his hands tucked away in his pockets.

"What does it matter to you? I thought you just wanted my money."

His refusal to be intimidated was grating on Liz's nerves; so much in fact that her anger was seeping into the gun in her hand. In her mind, she could hear Patty giggling hysterically. Something about angry people always sent Patty into uncontrollable fits of laughter for some reason, and oddly enough, not even her own big sister was an exception.

Liz gritted her teeth and removed the barrel of the gun from the boy's temple, instead shoving it roughly under his chin, forcing his head against the wall. Again, he didn't flinch, not even once. His eyes, an animalistic shade of gold and an entirely new breed of creepy onto themselves, remained focused exclusively on her.

"Of course I want your money, dipshit." She snapped, "But I want you to answer my question first."

"I'm looking for someone. Or rather, I'm looking for a _pair_ of someones."

Liz smiled arrogantly and pressed the barrel harder against the underside of his chin. "Oh really? And who might these 'someones' be?"

Something about that she found extremely unsettling. He was so calm…in the back of her mind, Liz was starting to wonder if perhaps he was some sort of cop, or maybe a bounty hunter. They did have a number of outstanding warrants in more than one state, perhaps the feds decided it was finally time to wrangle up the infamous Thompson Sisters for good.

Although, he didn't seem quite like a cop at all. Plus he was too young. Liz guessed he was probably a year or two younger than her.

"I don't know." He said smoothly, "I've never met them face-to-face."

Liz may have been high, but she wasn't so high that she didn't notice the slight twitch of his lip as he said that. It was so tiny, but it was there. A ghost of a smirk as he tilted his head further back against the wall, which made the gun slide from his chin down to the middle of his neck, just below his carotid artery. Despite the fact that he probably knew that, he didn't seem to be afraid in the slightest.

Liz gulped unconsciously. She wasn't sure whether to take his action as some strange act of submission, or if he was bluffing in some way and just had a flawless poker face and was actually shitting his pants internally. Whatever it may have been, she was determined to regain the upper-hand.

"How are you planning on finding two people in this city that you've never even met? Brooklyn's pretty big, you know." She said as she took another drag from her cigarette, blowing the thick smoke in the boy's face mockingly. Naturally, he remained eerily unfazed by the teasing action, the nearly imperceptible little smirk on his face never faltering. His eyes, however, slowly shifted away from hers and looked downward.

"I must say again, that's quite an interesting gun you have there, Miss." He began nonchalantly, completely ignoring her previous question. It was an innocent enough statement, but something in his tone made Liz's blood run frigid.

_Who is this guy? _She thought to herself, starting to feel slightly panicked. His eyes were boring into hers once again, his gaze was so intense and penetrating that his eyes almost seemed like they were glowing. She shoved the barrel of her gun violently into his throat. He gasped for air slightly, though, in Liz's mind, it didn't look like a gasp for air, but more like a pant of…pleasure?

Was he getting off on this or something? Liz froze. She suddenly began to wonder if maybe he really was some sort of creepy pervert, like those kids who purposely choked themselves until they passed out just for the sexual high and rush of adrenaline. Or worse yet, what if he was some psychopathic serial murderer, like Jack the Ripper? And what if he intended to make her and Patty his next victims?

"L-look kid, just give me your goddamn wallet and I won't kill you!" She shouted, her nerves finally getting the best of her. She would never outgrow her outrageous imagination, it seemed.

"Of course." He said breezily, pulling a black leather wallet out of his left pocket. He held it out to her smoothly, his eyes still locked on her. She felt him swallow lightly against the gun. "Would you mind moving your gun a bit first? You're crushing my windpipe."

Oh. So it _was_ gasp for air after all. Not that that necessarily eased her nerves, really. Nonetheless, she shifted the gun away from his neck and back to his temple, just to show him that she still meant business. Liz quickly snatched his wallet out of his hand, flipping it open to read the name on his I.D. card.

"Billy..._Bob_." She read aloud before looking up at him strangely. "_That's_ your name?"

"Clearly."

Her disbelieving scowl grew. "You're kidding."

The boy shrugged. "I don't see the big deal. It's just a name, isn't it?"

"Yeah. A damn weird one, if you ask me. I've never met anyone with the last name 'Bob'. And you damn sure don't look like a 'Billy' to me." Liz said as she continued inspecting the contents of his wallet, her scowl growing into a large smile as she found a wad of bills tucked away in one of the folds.

"Hot damn! You're loaded!" She exclaimedly loudly, finally lowering her weapon to count the money. She could hear Patty laughing and clapping happily in her mind as well. It'd been a long time since they scored that much money.

"I suppose." He said quietly, surprisingly not budging, despite having a clear opening to do so. Momentarily throwing her giddiness aside, Liz shoved the gun in the boy's face.

"Why're you still here? You can go now. Or do you _want_ me to fucking kill you?" She said rudely. But once again, his eyes had shifted from hers to the large, silver gun pointed at his face. He was eyeing it a little too curiously for someone who was just robbed.

"What?" Liz snapped. At that, the boy looked up to her again. "I've never seen a gun like that before."

"Oh, so you like guns, do ya? Geez, what is with you, anyway? Just be glad I'm not gonna blow your sack off like I was planning to earlier." She said, laughing evilly as she pressed the tip of the barrel against his forehead.

Ignoring the crude remark, the strange kid shook his head. "Not necessarily. But I do happen to know enough about guns to know that _this_ particular model is one of a kind. Or should I say…"

A small smirk snaked its way onto his face, curving one side of his mouth upward.

"…it is part of a rather _lovely_ matched set?"

The laughter ceased immediately. The gun cocked, safety removed.

"Okay, who the fuck are you?" Liz snapped suddenly, her face ashen and her arm trembling slightly. She had been right all along. There was something not right about this kid, or this entire situation. He knew something that most of the people in the circles her and Patty occasionally ran in didn't even know. He knew they were weapons.

A hand rose to meet her own trembling one, long, dextrous fingers curling around the barrel and pushing the gun away from his face slowly. "Relax. I'm not here to hurt you. Or your sister."

"How do you know about Patty?" Liz demanded. He shifted away from her, but before his hand moved, she noticed the skull ring on his middle finger and shivered slightly. Again with the skulls. This kid was seriously freaking her out.

The boy leaned back against the wall, his hands tucked back into his pockets.

"You two have been causing DWMA quite a bit of trouble, you know. My father has been tracking you for some time now."

* * *

Thanks for reading! The next part will be up some time this week, most likely. I want to finish this while I'm back in my Soul Eater phase. If you enjoyed it, I'd love a review please!

I hope I did the characters justice. I was trying to write them how I imagine them being pre-series.

Anyway, see you in a few days, hopefully!

-S*B


	2. Behind Closed Doors

A/N: Sorry for the impromptu hiatus, guys! But I just recently got back into Soul Eater again, and with renewed passion (lol) so an update was definitely in order.

This chapter is a bit slow, but necessary to lay the ground work for the rest of the story. Chapter three's already in progress and it _won't_ be eight months before I feel like updating again, pinky swear.

Warnings: language and content, I guess? Also, this isn't edited yet, because I'm rushing to go to work…sooo…will edit later. Forgive any errors, for now.

Disclaimer: SushiBomb does not own Soul Eater. This is written solely to entertain. Any unrecognizable characters belong to me.

* * *

Behind Closed Doors

* * *

Even at sunset, the streets of Brooklyn in the summertime were sweltering. It made Liz question why she had bothered to even wear a jacket over her tank top in the first place. At the present, her jacket was only serving as a hindrance, not only making her sweat, but was also sliding down her shoulder, forcing her to repeatedly shove it back into place.

They had been running for quite some time; if she had to guess, they'd gone about twelve or thirteen blocks already, and although the muscles in her calves were burning like hell and her heart was ready to explode out of her chest, Liz forced herself to keep going until they reached the safety of the shelter.

"Sis?" Patty asked quietly.

"Yeah?" Liz panted back.

"Do you wanna switch for a while? You've been running for a long time."

Despite everything, Liz's face softened at the concern in her sister's tone. "No, it's alright. We're almost there. I want you to stay in your gun form 'til we get to the shelter. Bertha's probably still got that spare room for us, I hope. Once we're behind those heavy doors, that weirdo can't get us, so don't worry."

"Okay…" She heard Patty mutter begrudgingly. After that, the younger Thompson sister went silent, leaving Liz alone with her thoughts as she rounded a corner. After nearly ten minutes, the shelter finally came into view. Liz heaved a mighty sigh, relief momentarily quelling the ache of her body. She leaned tiredly against the streetlight as she waited for it to turn green so she could keep going.

She pressed a hand over her heart, which was still beating wildly. "…Fuck, I really need to quit smoking…" She panted, still trying to catch her breath.

As the light turned green and the walking sign came on with it, Liz began walking across the street. She tucked her hands into her jean pockets, breathing deeply in order to calm herself down. And just as she felt herself returning to normal, she spotted a mass of black somewhere in her peripheral vision.

"Shit, he found us already?!" She muttered to herself, her panic returning with renewed fervor. Liz sped up. The shelter was right there, if could just get there before…

Cautiously, she peaked over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the surrounding area quickly before finally letting out another sigh of relief. As it turned out, it wasn't the strange boy from before, just the new kiddy ride the owner of the supermarket had installed in front of his store. Liz wiped her damp forehead. Her nerves were going to be the death of her, one day.

"Lizzy?" Patty asked, her voice groggy. She had been napping.

"It's fine, Patty, go back to sleep. False alarm."

The doors to the shelter were just as heavy and rickety-looking as they had been last time. As much as she insisted that they were going to eventually be fixed, Bertha just didn't have the time or the money to fix them like she wanted. But that didn't matter all that much at the moment. They did their job well enough, and to Liz, that was the most important thing. She and Patty had made an agreement, many years ago, that they would only stay there if it was an absolute emergency.

And a kid dressed in creepy skulls that knew about their weapon forms and was probably on their tails at that very moment definitely constituted an emergency, as far as they were both concerned. Patty shifted back into her human form just as Liz pushed open the door, looking up and down the block for any sign of life before deciding she didn't really care and instead opted for stretching tiredly and following her older sister inside.

"Bertha? Yo, you here?" Liz shouted as she closed the door behind them. A few moments later, a large older woman came out from one of the back rooms, wiping her glasses on the front of her button up shirt.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin', just a minute." She muttered, her voice raspy from years of chain-smoking; a habit that she had clearly not let up if the freshly lit cigarette dangling from between her lips was anything to go by.

"Girls, long time no see." The old woman said when she finally put her glasses back on and saw them for the first time. Liz stood there in front of her, her expression grim and exhausted and looking like she definitely needed a cigarette or two. Patty poked her head out from behind her sister, waving in greeting but looking just as worn out.

"Must'a been a helluva mess for you two'ta show up 'ere, hmm?"Bertha said, letting out a laugh which was quickly followed by a loud, congested cough.

"Yeah," Liz muttered before she reached into her bag, pulling out a few packs of cigarettes. "I stole you some cigarettes. You like menthol, right? Those were the only ones I could get." She said as she handed them over. Bertha smiled good-naturedly, letting her question drop. It seemed to be a touchy subject this time around. As long as they had her smokes, it didn't really matter that much anyway."I'll smoke what I can get, hun. Beggars can't be choosers."

She turned towards the stairs. "There's the usual room for you two upstairs. Third'ta last one on the left, alright?"

"Thanks." Liz said with a tired smile.

"Who do I have'ta look out for this time?" Bertha asked, taking a long drag of her cigarette. Before Liz could answer, Patty jumped in. "This freaky kid in a black suit! He looks like a fuckin' ghost!"

Bertha's eyes widened in faint amusement. "A ghost, eh?"

Liz rolled her eyes before pushing her sister up the stairs in front of her. "Must be some cracked out goth-wannabe or something. Lotsa skulls and stuff. But let's just say he knows some things about us that he shouldn't, so we're gonna lay low tonight."

"Well," Bertha began, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as she did so, "you two can sleep easy. If anyone lookin' like that comes 'round, I'll ghost _him_, ya get me?" She said, patting the handgun holstered under her shirt.

"Thanks, Bertha." Liz said, rubbing her arm to warm herself as she turned to ascend the old wooden staircase. "I'll swipe more smokes for you when I can, alright?"

* * *

"Lizzy…I'm hungry…" Patty moaned from her spot on the dingy carpet, her stomach growling loudly for the third time since they arrived. Liz rolled her eyes. Not out of irritation at her sister, but at the fact that in her haste to run away from the boy earlier, she chucked his wallet back at him to distract him.

Her expression soured.

Why hadn't she thought to grab the money he had in there out before running?

Liz let her face fall forward onto the window pane with a soft 'thunk'. That had not been one of her better ideas, and now she and her sister were feeling the repercussions. Her stomach growled loudly right after Patty's, reminding her of her failure. But they would have to go hungry tonight, because that skull-boy was still out there somewhere, waiting for them to come out of hiding.

Liz felt a shiver creep through her body.

"_You two have been causing DWMA quite a bit of trouble, you know. My father has been tracking you two for some time now."_

His words echoed in her mind, jarring it with questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to.

What was the DWMA? Was that some sort of police organization, like the FBI or something? Who was he? And, for that matter, who was his _father_?

And to think, someone had been tracking them all this time. The thought of being on someone's radar made Liz shake with paranoia. He had known exactly who they were, and where to find them. And…

She looked over her shoulder at her sister, who was lying quietly on the dirty carpet. Patty was huffing and bored to tears, picking the loose threads out and trying to ignore her rumbling stomach.

He knew that they were weapons.

Liz suddenly felt dizzy. This was the last thing the two of them needed right now.

"That skull bastard was kinda cute though, huh sis?" Patty said suddenly, snapping her older sister out of her spiraling thoughts. It was funny to see Liz sputter in anger and embarrassment, no matter what the situation. And at least to that effect, it made Patty feel somewhat better to see Liz blushing instead of looking like she was about to cry.

"What? P-patty! That guy might be trying to kill us for all we know, and you wanna talk about how _cute_ he is?!"

Patty didn't answer right away, instead settling for laughing loudly at her sister's beet-red face.

"You did think he was hot though, I know you did!" Patty said between giggles, which graduated back into loud guffaws when a pillow came flying at her face.

"I did not, don't be stupid!"

"Yeah, you did! You said you were gonna shoot his _thing_ off. You always say that to guys you think are hot, sis!"

"I _do_?" Liz shrieked, mortified.

Patty giggled louder. "Yep, you do."

Despite the burning of her cheeks, a small grin suddenly graced Liz's face. She understood then what her younger sister was trying to do, because it was something Patty was good at doing. Patty always did her best to ease Liz's anxieties by laughing and making light of their situation, no matter how grim it looked, and for that, Liz was grateful. Somehow they always managed to get out of whatever mess they landed themselves in, and she believed a large part of that was because Patty's refusal to be afraid of anything often gave her a false sense of bravery.

Besides, Patty _did_ have a point.

The whole Goth thing aside, Liz had to admit that he wasn't hard on the eyes at all.

She almost dared to say that he was charming, in a macabre sort of way. His mannerisms were confident and refined, and under any other circumstance, Liz would've found the way he nonchalantly swaggered into the alley way, without the slightest hint of fear or concern, quite attractive. His eyes were burned permanently in her mind, glowing like two white-hot embers in a fireplace. They were scarily intense, regardless of his expression, but there was something strangely comforting about them as well. They weren't the eyes of someone who wanted her and her sister dead, for once.

But that didn't change the fact that he was a clear danger to them. He was hunting them down and, Liz thought, her frown returning just as quickly as it had left, it was only a matter of time before he caught up to them again. It was obvious now- and it should've been obvious then, too -that he had only been toying around with them before.

He wasn't stupid or faking bravery at all, Liz realized the more the she thought back. He knew what he was doing, and he wasn't scared, because he had no reason to fear them. But then, that in turn made her wonder.

Was he really that confident she wouldn't shoot him? Or did he have some means of protecting himself, on the not-so-slim chance that she did? After all, someone like him, who apparently knew so much, surely must've also been aware that they didn't fire actual bullets, but their own compressed soul wavelengths, right?

From the way he was talking; hinting at something with his strange questions and rebuttals, it sounded like he did. His voice still resonated in her ears, the smooth baritone humming in and out like a wordless, burlesque tune; one that Liz didn't care to even try to push out of her thoughts. She rather liked his polite manner of speaking, snarky and condescending as he was.

Even so, it made her wonder just what sort of methods he would use to counter something like a soul wavelength being fired point-blank into his body. It also made her question whether Bertha would be able to fend him off with simply her handgun, if he happened to know where they were hiding, which Liz had a sneaking suspicion that he did.

She clutched at her head in pain.

Obsessing about it was doing nothing but giving her a headache, so she opted to push all thoughts of the boy and his freaky skulls and him chasing them out of her mind and instead lay down on the floor next to her sister. But not before closing the old, patchwork curtain on the window shut, blocking out the orange light of the nearly set sun and leaving only the dim light of the lone bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Sis," Patty began tiredly as she flipped onto her back, "I could go for a pizza slice from Mangenello's right about now…"As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Ignoring her own empty stomach, Liz mimicked her sister, also laying down on her back.

"Yeah, me too. Sorry I didn't grab the money. I freaked."

She felt Patty's hand on her arm then, rubbing it softly as if to say, 'it's alright. You don't have to explain.'

"It's cool, sis." She said after a moment, digging something out her pocket, "We still have this, after all."

Liz turned her head. Patty was holding a gaudy-looking platinum ring to the light, watching with childish fascination at the way the light glinted off of the precious metal, as well as the large diamond set in the middle. Patty turned to her sister, giggling impishly as she tossed to ring up and caught it again. "Bet that mafia dude is missing this right about now, huh?"

Feeling her previous anxiety slowly ebb away, Liz laughed out loud. "Sucks to be him."

She rolled over onto her side, cradling her head in her hand. "How much do you think we can get for it, anyway? That thing's gotta be worth like five grand, at _least_."

Patty made a curious noise as she rolled the ring around in her fingers, contemplating it. "I dunno, it might be more than that, depending on which pawn shop we go to."

"In any case," Liz said before yawning loudly, "We sure as hell can't sell it to anyone around here. No one's gonna buy it if they recognize it. We can catch the bus up to Long Island. Or maybe New Jersey…I dunno, we'll figure it out tomorrow."

"What about skull-boy?" Patty asked, all of the humor from before drained from her voice. "What happens if we run into him again?"

Liz sighed. "I'm scared as hell, Patty. But we can't just stay here, hiding like a couple of pussies. We gotta take a chance while we can. We cash in on that ring tomorrow, then we get the hell out of New York for a while."

Patty's eyes drifted down to the dingy blue carpet beneath them, thinking for a moment before nodding and standing up, her expression giving away her apprehension.

Liz didn't blame her. It was easier said than done.

But, what other choice was there?

* * *

"Kid, your stripes are as cute as ever!"

Despite the fact that his father made a habit of pointing out the hideously asymmetrical sanzu lines every time they spoke, Kid's hands automatically flew to his hair, covering it in embarrassment.

"Father, please. You know I hate it when you say that." He said exasperatedly. His father really was too carefree sometimes.

"How's the Big Apple? Did you get me a T-shirt like I asked? And one of those little bobble-heads too? Did you eat any pizza yet?" Death asked excitedly, getting closer and closer to the mirror with each question, until the white mask and gloves were smashed against the glass.

"Father, I'm not here on vacation, you know." Kid said, arms folded across his chest in annoyance; annoyance which quickly turned into resignation when he noticed his father's shoulders slump forward.

"Yeah, I know, but, you know you can't go to New York and not come back with some souvenirs or eat the food!"He whined.

Kid rubbed his neck tiredly. They'd only been speaking for about two minutes and he was already exhausted. Exhausting was a good word for his father, he thought with a discreet eye roll. Nonetheless, he quickly gave in to his father's infectious enthusiasm. "I had some pizza for lunch earlier," he muttered, "It was pretty good…"

"Ooooh, I wish I could be there too!" Death whined with jealousy. Kid cleared his throat. "Father, may I give you my report now please?"

Death sighed at his son's all-business demeanor. Kid really needed to loosen up sometimes.

The death god settled back, shoulders once again slumping in resignation.

"Alright then," he acquiesced after a moment, "what's going on so far?"

Kid sat back against the headboard of the hotel bed, relaxing tiredly against it with the mirror propped up against his thighs. "Well, I found them."

"Already?!" Death exclaimed, impressed with his son's surprising efficiency.

Kid shrugged. "Once I did a bit of asking around and found out what kind of people they were, it wasn't really that hard. Although…" Kid paused momentarily to rub his still sore head, "The stories you've told me about them don't do them any justice at all. My head is still throbbing from when the older sister clubbed me with her gun."

Death propped his head in his giant hands, nodding in interest. "Mm-hmm, mm-hmm, go on, go on."

Kid's eye twitched when his finger came back tinged with red. He hadn't been aware that he was bleeding. "Tch, that Amazon…" He muttered angrily. The wound was healed, but that didn't change the fact that he'd have to wash his hair _again_.

"What happened?" Death asked.

"Knowing what you know about our dear sisters, I think you can guess. They tried to mug me."

"Unsuccessfully, from the sound of it."

Kid shook his head. "On the contrary. They were entirely successful, until I made their actual situation clear. It wasn't my intention to scare them, but the older sister, Elizabeth, screamed and threw my wallet-" Kid rubbed his cheek with an annoyed glower, "-at my _face_, of course, before running away."

Death snorted into his hand. The death god immediately shrank back however when he felt his son's frigid glare on him. Death held his hands up in bemused surrender. "Okay, okay, sorry!"

"This is hardly a laughing matter, father." Kid snapped. "Regardless, I'll simply have to try again tomorrow."

"And what if they try to run again?" Death asked. Kid could almost hear the amused smirk in his father's tone. A mask suited the god just fine, because his tone was expressive enough.

Kid sighed. "I wasn't expecting it last time, so they caught me off guard. But I'm a Death God. They won't be getting away this time around. We can't allow weapons that use their powers for crime to run around unchecked. Of course," A tiny smirk crept onto the young death god's face. "I know where they are right at this moment, and it would be easier to catch them when their guard is down, but…"

"But?" Death pressed.

Kid's smirk turned earnest. "That's beneath a Death God to be so underhanded, don't you think?"

"Wha-oh, OH! Yeah, of course, you're right! That's not the way to go about things, no way!" Death said quickly, earning a strange look from his son.

Kid shook his head. "Anyway, that's my report for now. I'm turning in for the night."

Death nodded. "Mm. Thanks for your hard work. Good luck tomorrow, Kid."

"Thank you, father."

* * *

Again, sorry for both the delay, and the lack of action this chapter. Things will really pick up from this point on, however, so don't worry!


End file.
